A political crisis like '75? Tell 'em they're dreamin'

As the political temperature escalates from febrile to critical, some people are starting to make the comparison with 1975, the year of the political crisis which led to the dismissal of a government.

And certainly there are some similarities: the fanatical partisanship, the ruthless disregard for manners and convention, the refusal even to consider the views of the other side, let alone admit that they might have some substance.

But having said that, there are two very big differences.

No matter how you looked at it, 1975 was always heading for a resolution. Sooner or later, something had to give. While very few people (whatever they may say in hindsight) expected Whitlam's chosen governor-general would sack him, it was clear that the impasse over supply could not go on forever; somehow the money had to be found. Whitlam himself wanted to force a half-senate election, which may or may not have resolved the issue. Malcolm Fraser, of course, wanted the full deal.

Around Parliament House, the feeling was that at least some of the Liberal senators were on the brink of giving in; the polls were swinging back to the government and the public fury seemed directed fairly evenly towards both sides. The place was chaotic and half its inhabitants seriously manic, but everyone knew it was heading for a climax.

But today... well, what climax? Unless and until the Government loses the numbers in the House of Representatives, there is no reason why it should not go on for another two years and finish its allotted term. This may eventually change if any government member dies or is convicted of a criminal offence, but the most likely prospect, Craig Thomson, is a very long way from that; so far he is simply the subject of an investigation into whether there should be an investigation. If the credit card affair is ever to lead to a climax, it is many months away.

And the independents on whom the Government depends have shown that they are not for turning – at least not while Tony Abbott remains the alternative prime minister. The Government has the numbers in the Senate and supply is guaranteed. And even if the Opposition could somehow provoke a situation that required vice-regal intervention, it no longer has Sir John Kerr waiting in Yarralumla to cut the thread. The more measured (and sober) Quentin Bryce is hardly likely to play the part of Atropos.

And this brings us to the second difference: the crisis of 1975 was actually about something. The government had attempted to bypass both the states and the Treasury to raise an overseas loan of $4 billion and the whole process had gone horribly wrong. A cast of weirdos in white shoes and green sunglasses had emerged making improbable promises and brandishing carpet bags. Whitlam had been forced to sack two of his most senior ministers for deliberately misleading parliament over their own roles in the affair.

This gave Malcolm Fraser the "unusual and reprehensible circumstance" he need to justify the blocking of supply, a move only made possible by an unprecedented breach of convention: on the death of a Queensland Labor senator, the state premier Joh Bjelke-Petersen had appointed as his replacement not another Labor member, as was accepted practice, but an anti-Labor stooge. With the numbers in the senate Fraser committed his own breach of convention, confident that it would force Whitlam to an election.

Whitlam fought back, attempting to find alternative means to pay the civil and military public service. Lawyers, up to and including the chief justice became involved, both openly and covertly and there was talk of both a general strike and of military intervention. This really was a political crisis; no wonder the place went apeshit.

But today... well, what crisis? The polls are against the Government, as are the shock jocks and sections of the media, but for the administration, it's pretty much business as usual. By international standards the place is in good shape, and although there are plenty of dissatisfied voters, there are no signs of a genuine people's revolt – the streets are largely empty of marchers. And as for the Parliament – it's noisy, but no more so than it has been in other times in its history. In the uproar after the crisis of 1909 the speaker dropped dead in his chair; Harry Jenkins remains robust.

Compared to 1975, it's pretty Mickey Mouse stuff. Whitlam had to sack cabinet ministers; Julia Gillard is having problems with a single backbencher. Fraser responded by blocking supply; all Tony Abbott can block is parliamentary pairings. Fraser's lust for power at least produced drama on a grand scale; Abbott's manifests itself in stunts and spite. Wacky and frantic it may be, but 1975 it's not. Trust me; I was there.